


The King Who Was, and Is, and Who Shall Come Again

by Ellidfics



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Marvel 616, Marvel Comics
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-03-30 19:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19034437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellidfics/pseuds/Ellidfics
Summary: Read now the tale of Stephanos, Knight of the Star and Captain of fair Graymarie, and King Antonius, the Knight of Adamant, defender of the realm. This story came to me from the writings of the good chroniclers Brother Iacobus of Kurtzberg and the learned Josephus of Rochester, as well as many others, and I have told it as well as God allows. May the lives of these sweet friends, as close comrades as Amis and Amiloun, inspire all of chivalrous mind and noble heart!





	The King Who Was, and Is, and Who Shall Come Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haemodye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemodye/gifts).



Tis of the king who was, and is, and who shall come again.

Read now the tale of Stephanos, Knight of the Star and Captain of fair Graymarie, and King Antonius, the Knight of Adamant, defender of the realm. This story came to me from the writings of the good chroniclers Brother Iacobus of Kurtzberg and the learned Josephus of Rochester, as well as many others, and I have told it as well as God allows. May the lives of these sweet friends, as close comrades as Amis and Amiloun, inspire all of chivalrous mind and noble heart!

 

Here the chroniclers say:

…in the year of grace 450, the great emperor of Rome, Lucius Artorius, did send a company of soldiers from Eboracum to the aid of his cousin, Arthur son of Uther, to aid him against invasion and war led by his kinsman Mordred. This company was captained by a man named Stephanos, originally from Hibernia but long in the service of the imperial armies fighting against the barbarian hordes from the East. Arthur sent precious relics from Glastonbury Abbey in thanks, but here the correspondence between the rulers ceases….

Here the bards speak:

For the time had come when the great king Arthur son of Uther Pendragon must needs march off to war against the foul and wicked usurper Mordred. His own castle of Camelot he gave over to his trusted steward to rule until he should return again, and also his lands and kingdom to his faithful knights and nobles. Yet none could be found to rule Graymarie, fairest of his possessions, and the King did despair and lament that Graymarie should fall into ruin without his strong arm to repel the barbarian hordes.

Then spoke up one of his younger knights. This man, Stephanos, called the Knight of the Star for the device upon his shield, had but lately come to Camelot from Eboracum, yet had he won great renown fighting the captains of Greater Germany in service to the dread Emperor of Rome, Lucius Artorius, kin to Arthur himself. His hair was golden as ripe wheat in the summer sun, his eyes bluer than the sea, and overall so tall and well-knit was this noble knight that none handsomer nor stronger could be found throughout the realm. Generous was he to the poor, and kind to the ladies, and had he come to Arthur's lands but a few years earlier he would have been proclaimed the noblest and most courteous of all those who sat at the Table Round.

“My lord king,” said this Stephanos, stepping forward and dropping to one knee, “send me to thy lands of Graymarie. I swear to thee now, before this great company, that I shall defend this land and people against all comers as long as there is strength in my arm and breath in my body. Thou hast been as a father to me since I came hence with my company, and I would repay thee thus.”

“Gladly will I accept thy oath, my good Stephanos,” cried the noble king, and when oaths had been sworn and accepted he raised Stephanos with both his hands to kiss him on cheek and brow. “Go now to Graymarie with what men owe thee allegiance, and tell its defenders that I, Arthur, did send thee to its defense.”

“This I will do, my lord king,” said Stephanos, bowing low. “Not death itself shall prevent me from fulfilling this my oath. Graymarie shall be my home, and her people's welfare my chief concern, until the Lord declares my life be over.”

And so Stephanos settled his great shield upon his arm, summoned his squire and all the men who had followed him from Rome, and rode him off to Graymarie.

 

Here the chroniclers say:

…and so it was that the people did acclaim Stephanos, mighty in battle and much of honor, to be the Captain of Graymarie, sent by Arthur to protect and guide them in his absence. And when Arthur fell in battle and was seen no more, the wise of the land did request that Stephanos remain as their guardian, though he might have returned to Rome’s service or repaired to his own steading….

Here the bards speak:

Other hands have told of what befell Arthur at the final battle, and of the sundering of the Round Table and the fall of Camelot. Fair Graymarie alone of Arthur's possessions was spared this doleful fate, and that thanks to the grace of God, who richly blessed the efforts of Stephanos to rally the people and defend them against invasion and war. Isabel de Champagne has written of those early days, when Graymarie seemed lost until the Knight of the Star, his squire and household at his side, did repel those who would despoil the land and enslave the people, and I need not speak more of that time.

And so it was that though Arthur fell, and darkness descended upon his former lands, Graymarie alone survived, a shining beacon of light against the darkness of those times. For Stephanos, who would accept neither crown nor any title beyond Captain of the People, fulfilled his oath to Arthur and kept Graymarie safe against all comers. His great shield, once borne by St. George and marked with a shining star to guide the army, was ever in the van when danger threatened, and soon none dared attack Graymarie, so fierce was its champion and so skilled in all the arts of war.

Equally skilled were Stephanos' companions, whose deeds were scarcely less worthy than those of Arthur's court. What can I say that has not already been said about Gaius Cervullulus, Stephanos' squire and constant companion? His sergeants Nicholas Furiosus and Timothy of Wales, and the royal bard Gabriel, who played the war pipes so sweetly that one might thing he was the archangel himself? Margaret the Lady Knight, who would have wed Stephanos had he not been sworn to the service of the land instead of to a single lady? Their exploits are legend second only to those of Stephanos himself, and without their prowess and loyal service there is little doubt that Graymarie would have followed Camelot into darkness.

The land thrived and was at peace for many years. Harvests were rich and plentiful, and soon scholars of renown came to Graymarie to grace her court and instruct her people in the knowledge of God and the wisdom of the past. The great nunnery of Our Lady of Perpetual Liberty was raised as a thank offering by Margaret the Lady Knight after her marriage to Sir Gabriel and her safe delivery of their daughter, known as the Rose of Sharon for her beauty, and soon the finest sculptors and artisans of the land came to adorn the cloisters. Graymarie was spoken of throughout the world, and her Captain accounted as wise and just a ruler as any in Christendom.

Alas! All things must end, and so did the years of Stephanos, the Captain of Graymarie. For one Arminius, a Switzer rumored to have clashed with Stephanos during his service to the Emperor Lucius Artorius, did envy Graymarie her good fortune and desire to seize her wealth for himself. He raised an army and sailed across the sea, thinking that peace had made Stephanos soft, and sought to land at the Isle of the Conies, one of the Five Blessed Isles, on a cold spring day before any defense could be mustered.

In this he was wrong, for peace had not lessened Stephanos' strength, nor the keenness of his watchers upon the borders. Scarce had Arminius set sail when Robert, Sentinel of the Land, sent word to Stephanos to prepare the defenses. Thus did Arminius find himself pitted against the army of the Five Isles, not a mere garrison such as he had expected.

Despite this, the battle that day was fierce, and many great and noble warriors fell to the invading force before Stephanos himself arrived with his own household. Desperate was the struggle to repel Arminius and his minions, and had not Sir William of Naslund and his seventy-six noble knights come by sea to strike the enemy from the rear, Graymarie might well have been lost forever to Arminius and his greed.

And yet it might as well as have been lost, for among those who fell were Gaius Cervullulus, Stephanos' most beloved knight and counselor, and Juniper the Younger, commander of the wild men of the north. Many others were lost, or injured; Nicholas Furiosus lost an eye, Margaret the Lady Knight was struck upon the head and scarce knew her own husband and child, and the roll of woe was near as great as the roll of glory.

The worst loss of all was Stephanos himself. He fought bravely and ever in the van, and had not Arminius tricked him into single combat he might well have lived to see another day. Woeful to tell! It was not so; Stephanos was cast into the freezing water even as he struck the death blow against his old enemy, and by the time he was found and brought to land again he was insensible, his noble face so cold it might have been carved from marble, and none could rouse him nor detect any signs of life.

"Alas! Our land is accursed," said Sir Gabriel, heavy of heart for the injury to his lady and the loss of his chief. "Who will lead us now? Our Captain has fallen and we are bereft."

Up spoke the abbess of Our Lady of Liberty, Jehane de Fostorius. Wise was she in leechcraft and all the arts of medicine, and high in the councils of the land. "Give the Captain to me, noble knight, for it may be that his service to our land is not yet ended. My nuns and I will bear him hence and do all we can to preserve his life, for my heart tells me that a time will come when we will have need of our Captain once again."

"So shall it be done," said the noble knight, and the nuns of Our Lady came to bear Stephanos away to their sanctuary, there to lie beneath the high altar, his shield upon his breast, in a casket of imperishable crystal, until the land should have need of him once more. And the chronicles speak no more of him for many a long year.

 

Here Josephus, chronicler of Rochester, gives the roll of the Kings and Queens of Graymarie, from William of Naslund to Antonius the Man of Iron:

Hear now the roll of the Noble Nine,  
Kings and Queens of Graymarie so fine,  
Who ruled with honor, grace, and beauty,  
When fell their noble Cap to duty.  
First reigned William, flower of Nas’s land  
Who brought bright victory with his hand.  
Next bold Geoffrey of the mighty mace,  
Fearsome in war and kindly in peace.  
Came then another Will, one both grim and sad,  
Gallant ‘til Fate struck and made him mad.  
One-armed James and Natalia th’Red  
Came from the East when newly wed,  
Ruled for long years side by side, till came  
Samuel, falcon-keen and swift as the same.  
John the Walker next did reign, stout of heart  
And strong of arm, highly skilled in all war’s arts.  
Huard who took a wife from distant shores,  
Last his son Antonius, who gave red gold in store.

Here the bards speak:

And so the years passed, in Graymarie as in the world. Those who came after would not take the title of Captain, so it was that Stephanos was succeeded in time by kings and queens, as in other realms. None was followed by their own child, as it was deemed fitting that the land should be ruled only by one acceptable to the people and willing to subordinate all pride to the service of Graymarie, as had Stephanos himself.

Eventually it pleased God that the throne should fall to Lord Huard, son of Isaac of Stark, a merchant of great wealth and much learning. King Huard was keen of mind and nimble of hand, and under his rule Graymarie became a land that loved science and learning nearly as much as she loved freedom and the good of all people. Great scholars came from far Nuremberg and other lands where knowledge is valued, and soon Graymarie was the envy of the world for her artisans’ skill with metal and wood and all manner of smithcraft.

King Huard himself was not the least of these mechanicians, as they became known, and his work graced the halls of castle and cloister. Marvelous were his creations: lights that needed no flame, instruments of war and defense that would defeat any who attacked the land, new draughts that might heal the sick and bring life to the dying. An oracular head of finest bronze was his great counselor, hight “Jarvis” for a wise friend and advisor who had fallen in battle, and there was no finer, richer land in all of Christendom.

Huard eventually passed his first youth, and as was Graymarie’s custom, he cast about him for an heir to sit the throne and be guardian and ruler when it pleased God to call him to his rest. Alas! None of the nobles or men of learning proved acceptable to the councils of the realm, nor did any of the knights who served him have the strength of heart and mind to serve.

So it was that Howard broke with long custom and took unto him a wife, Maria Carbonelli from far-off Padua, in hopes of getting an heir of the body since he could find none suitable in his court. Brilliant was she, the equal of any man in learning and curiosity, with the dark beauty of her native land and a kind heart that called to mind Good Queen Bets, consort of King Geoffrey of the Mace. Great was the land’s rejoicing when she conceived and grew heavy with child, and greater still when she was safely delivered of a healthy son, named Antonius for Queen Maria’s father, a scholar of renown.

So the future of the land and the crown was Graymarie was secured, or so it seemed for many years. The young Prince proved as eager to learn as his parents, and the oracular head Jarvis pronounced him a flower of the land, with “a heart of iron and a will of adamant.”

 

Here the chroniclers relate:

…then darkness fell upon the land, for as greatly as Huard had desired an heir, so all too soon did he find his son wanting and treat him ill. The prince, endowed with all the gifts of mind and body, did sense his father’s animus and lost himself in the pleasures of the flesh and idle sports. The King sent his own confessor, Bishop Obadiah, to remonstrate with the youth and remind him of the fear of God and the risk to his soul of such debauchery, yet his warnings did fall upon deaf ears as the Prince grew to manhood….

Here the bards do return to their tale:

Fair was Prince Antonius as he grew to manhood, of more than average height, with eyes blue as the mountain lakes and his mother’s dark curling hair, with shoulders broad from hunting and smithcraft and a waist near as slender as a maiden’s, for he was constantly moving about and oft forgot to partake of more than bread and wine. He proved as skilled a mechanician as his father, if not moreso, devising many new ways to forge and sculpt shape weapons and also devices to ease the burden of the laborer.

Alas! This beauty and skill availed the Prince little insofar as his sire was concerned. For as wise and worthy Huard had been as a king, so was he distant and cold as a father and husband. Some said it was because the Queen, fearful of death in childbed, denied him her favors, while others claimed it was guilt that he had put aside Graymarie’s long tradition and gotten him an heir of the flesh and not of the heart. Still others held that Huard saw in Antonius such brilliance and promise that he could never hope to match, and thus envied his own child so much he could scarce stand to see the boy at all as he waxed old and found himself less and less able to engage in the work he loved.

Antonius, as tender of heart as he was gifted of mind, knew well that his father did not favor him. When he was young he had often taken refuse in the crypt beneath the castle, where lay the Captain of Graymarie in his casket of imperishable crystal, and long did he lament his fate and pray for guidance beside the resting place of his land’s first and best ruler. “Why will my father not praise my works? Why does he scorn me and my lady mother? Alas that I was ever born! Surely God did not intend me to suffer though I be innocent.”

Often did Antonius say thus, yet never came a reply, either from the Lord nor from the noble knight who lay insensible in the crypt. And so Antonius, despairing of his father’s love, took refuge in drink and loose companions and all manner of debauchery unfit for a king of any land, let alone fair Graymarie. His skill with weaponscraft and mechanical sciences was as great as any, but rumors flew that he would never be fit to rule in his father's stead.

Chief among those who held thus was Bishop Obadiah of Stane, King Huard's confessor and keeper of the privy purse. “The lad is young, and untried,” he murmured to the King when he should have been reminding Huard of the care of his realm and his immortal soul,or so the rumor said. “Fear not for thy country, though, for I will keep watch upon the land should evil come, and guide thy son from the path of sin to redemption and wise kingship.”

Thus it was that King Huard, when age did come upon him, did proclaim his Bishop as regent, to rule in his stead should aught befall him and his Queen before their son should be ripe for the throne. Queen Maria was not best pleased with this, for she was as able as any man to rule, or any of the queens or lady knights of Graymarie’s past. King Huard would not be gainsaid, however, and thus his last years were spent in quarrels and animosity with his once-beloved wife and the son he should have cherished above all things.

 

Here the chroniclers speak:

…then did the Dragon of Ten Rings fall upon the land, and lay waste to many of the fields and forests. The people cried out for succor, and so King Huard, old though he was, set out with his Queen and many of his most senior knights and men at arms to end the fell creature’s rampage upon the land.

Alas, words can scarce tell of the sorrow when word came that King Huard and Queen Maria had perished whilst hunting the Dragon of Ten Rings. For it is said that the dragon came upon them ere the King had donned his armor, and before he or his knights could so much as cry out, the black wyrm's breath had consumed them all. The Queen alone remained to fight, but so shocked was she by the awful death of her lord and his household that she could scarce bear to lift her sword before the dragon’s tail had swept her over the side of a cliff, there to perish on the rocks below….

Here the bards relate:

Great was the woe of the populace when the Queen’s handmaiden, Ginevra il Rosso di Pentola, galloped to the capitol upon a horse half-dead with the awful news that King and Queen had both fallen to the Dragon’s fury. Bishop Obadiah, grim of mien and facile of tongue, counseled the people not to take arms against the Dragon, but rather to seek shelter in the great church of Our Lady of Liberty and beg the Mother of God for mercy against the coming peril.

“For surely the Dragon will leave when it has sated its hunger, and then we can rebuild our land,” he said, the words falling honey-sweet from his lips. And so it was that rather than taking arms against the foe, many foolish, frightened townsfolk did list to obey and repaired thus to the church to lament and cry woe, woe! when they might have spent their time in preparation and defense.

Only Prince Antonius, now King, refused so to retreat. He rose from the gaming table, drank him of a potion that restored his wits, and called for arms and armor, saying, “Neither bite nor sup shall I have until my parents are revenged and our land is once again at peace.” Nor would he listen to Obadiah, who ordered him to stay in the capitol, safe from harm, even though Obadiah was regent and should have had the final say.

“I am King by birth and blood, and by my deeds shall prove myself also worthy in the old way,” he declared, and so noble was his countenance and so determined his words that none dared gainsay him.

And so it was that Antonius donned his newest armor, forged from adamant brought from far-off Ouakanda by Sir Gabriel in the days of Stephanos, girded the sword of state about his slender waist, and rode off to confront the Dragon of the Ten Rings. With him were but three, his most faithful companions: James of Rhodes, cousin to mighty Feirefiz brother to the knight Parvizal, of whom Wolfram of Germany hath writ; Felix Pugilisticus, strong of hand and loyal of heart; and Lady Ginevra herself, who wore her fallen Queen’s favor into battle and brought with her all the potions of war that Antonius had created during his studies.

Long hours did they ride, yet so determined were they that it was as if mere minutes had passed since the doleful news of Graymarie’s loss. They found the Dragon, crouched gloating above the royal standard and the shield of King Huard, and so wroth was Antonius that had not Sir James not restrained him he would have charged the foe immediately, without thought nor plan. “Sire, God hath granted thee the skill and brains to defeat his rough beast without risking thy life through rashness and lack of foresight,” declared the noble knight. “Consider well before thou dost attack, to be certain of the victory.”

“This is well said,” replied Antonius, and while the Dragon slept he did prepare his armor and lance with the alchemical solutions and ointments Lady Ginevra had brought hence. “May the Lord guide my hand, and may my parents be avenged!” And thus armed and prepared did he ride forth to destroy the Dragon.

Great was the battle that raged that day, as the chroniclers do tell us. Thrice did Antonius charge the Dragon, and thrice was he beaten back, losing horse and lance and even his shield to its deadly fire and poisonous breath. It was not until his stout companions did distract the beast with crossbow bolts and great war cries that he was able to come close enough to douse its fire with a potion proof against brimstone. Then, whilst the beast as so crippled, Antonius, son of Huard and Maria, raised his sword of Ouakandan metal and drove it into the great vein in the Dragon’s neck and thus end its evil life.

Antonius was wounded sore in body, and his heart was heavy with the loss of his parents, for he had loved his mother dearly and also his father despite King Huard's jealousy and scorn. Even so, he directed James and Ginevra to make them a sledge of willow branches to bear the Dragon’s head and tasked Felix Pugilisticus to harness the remaining horses to the same. Only when this work was done did he allow his own hurts to be tended, after which the party did set out for Graymarie’s city to display the proof of his triumph to the people.

 

Here relate the chroniclers:

…and when the King returned to his people with the Dragon’s head, the people rejoiced greatly, for the Dragon had killed many folk of the countryside and the King and Queen besides. The elders declared that Antonius, young though he was, was fit to be King without a regent, and so he was crowned without delay despite the objections of the Bishop…

Here say the bards:

After he had returned with proof of his triumph, Antonius let the nuns of Our Lady of Liberty tend his remaining wounds, and also those of his companions. His bloodied armor was cleaned, and he was declared the Knight of Adamant, for its strange metal had protected him well against the Dragon’s fire. Then he went in solemn procession to Our Lady of Liberty, his nobles and dear companions by his side, and with holy oaths did he forswear debauchery and rough companions to pledge himself, body and soul, to the service of his people. He then confessed his sins and was shriven by his own confessor, Father Edwin, before being crowned by the suffragan bishop David the Bruce, for Bishop Obadiah pled illness and kept to his own dwelling.

So it was that Antonius became the tenth King of Graymarie, and young though he was, he proved as able a ruler as any since Stephanos had been the Captain of the land. The wisest were set to work restoring the land that had been scorched by the Dragon of Ten Rings, that the people might not starve from want of a harvest. Soon the country was as prosperous as ever it had been, and to have a suit of armor or a sword forged in Graymarie was the goal of every lord and king and duke in Christendom. "Our King of Iron," the people called Antonius, for his will was great, also his prowess in the hunt and on the tourney field, and under his aegis Graymarie prospered and was at peace.

The only darkness to mar this peaceful time came soon after Antonius was crowned. The former confessor to King Huard, Bishop Obadiah, attempted to reclaim his place at court, stating that the King was still not of age and thus he should be regent. The councils of state would have none of this, for Antonius had proved himself more than worthy of the crown, and Obadiah repaired himself to his estates, muttering and complaining that Antonius was ungrateful and unfit to rule. And dark rumors of plots and counterplots soon sprang up about the Bishop, even whispers that he had consorted with demons of the East to summon the Dragon hence to kill King and Queen and Prince alike, so as to leave only the Bishop to rule the land.

Father Edwin, Antonius' own confessor, initially doubted the rumors, for he was a saintly and kindhearted man. All the same, he counseled that Obadiah should be kept under close watch, for such bitterness was not seemly in a man of God, and Antonius agreed that this should be done. For during the years of his estrangement from his royal sire, he had often found the way to his father's chamber barred by the cleric, and some of his companions in debauchery were themselves in the Bishop's service.

"Long have I suspected that he poured poison in my father's ear against me and my lady mother, though he be ever so holy," Antonius told Father Edwin. In time all but a few had forgotten that Bishop Obadiah was ever more than a figure of the shadows, complaining and muttering and keeping to his own lands, not the once-great counselor to a king.

 

So the chroniclers write:

…word came from the East that one Ioannes, a Teutonic knight called Caput Rufus for a great battle scar that had left his face and pate as red as the fires of Hell, had turned from the path of God and sought the riches of Graymarie. This man, who was learned both in the arts of war and the most evil of magics, had conquered all in his path until he had ventured forth against the men of Kievan Rus. Their lord, the mighty Alexander, had repelled this Ioannes but at heavy cost to the land and people, and so could do no more than send swift messengers to the West to warn Antonius and the other Christian kings of the peril that Caput Rufus brought to their lands….

So sing the bards:

Graymarie enjoyed half a decade's peace before evil once again threatened the land. For all things must change, as Our Lord has willed it be so until the Day of Judgment when He shall judge the quick and the dead, and so at Eastertide in the sixth year of Antonius’ reign word came to Graymarie of a threat from the East.

A Teutonic Knight of dark reputation, born Johann Schmidt but called Caput Rufus for his fiery countenance, turned his eyes to Graymarie after suffering defeat in the Rus and resolved to strip her of her riches and enslave her people for his own profit. Long since forsworn before God and men, it was said that by his practice of alchemy and evil rites, he had acquired the strength of ten mighty men, which made him all but invincible. His foul and blasphemous campaigns had so blighted the land that the Princes of the Rus had had to ally themselves with the Mohammedan hordes of the steppes to provide their people with grain and meat and firewood for the long cold winter.

Antonius received the word of this man’s intent and immediately set his wisest men to studying the best means to counteract this threat. He also read all the tomes of magic and alchemy he could obtain for knowledge he could turn against this blackest of Knights. The whole kingdom was resolved to drive the Caput Rufus back to whatever pit of Hell had spawned him, peasant and poet and noble alike, and the air rang with the clap of the hammer and the buzz of arrows as the people prepared for deadly war.

One alone did not join in these worthy efforts. Bishop Obadiah, his once-sweet tongue now bitter and cruel, ventured forth to the capitol with poisoned counsels for the King. “This Red Skull didst smite the sledded Polack on the ice of the North and level the great ports of the Hansa. Opposing him is folly! Better far to treat with him and retain some measure of peace than take up arms and risk all.”

“Once I might have listened to thy counsel, even as I did when I was young and foolish,” said King Antonius, sitting upon the simple chair that had been constructed for Stephanos in former days. “I learned better when thy words would have led to Graymarie’s utter destruction by the Dragon that murdered my parents. We will not negotiate with this Ioannes, nor will we yield a single inch of our lands to him and his men.”

Then the King did rise from his throne, his armor of adamant glittering gold in the ruddy noontime sun, and draw his great sword upon the former Bishop. “Get thee gone, false adviser! Thy words bring nothing but ill to my line and my people. Ships lie in the harbor to take thee and thy men to Rome, there to spend thy days in prayer and solitude.”

“Foolish King!” cried the Bishop, and would have struck Antonius with his crozier had not Sir James stood between him and his liege. “Thy parents fell because they would not heed my will. The same fate shall befall thee! Fall upon thy knees and beg – “

“Never, by Our Lady of Liberty!” swore Antonius, and truly did the Bishop recoil at the name of the Mother of God. At this Lady Ginevra, making the Sign of the Cross against evil (for what true priest would show disgust at mention of the Blessed Virgin?), drew a potion of truthtelling from her girdle and threw it in Obadiah’s face.

“Speak the truth, false priest, and sap our strength no more!” spake the good Ginevra, and all those assembled took up the call.

Then Obadiah did utter a cry that cracked the very stones of the castle, and behold! a demon of Hell stood before the King! Then all understood that the estrangement between Huard and his Queen, and their deaths, and the drunkenness of Antonius’ youth, was all due to the fell interference of this accursed man. Father Edwin spoke the word of the anathema in a great and terrible voice, and Obadiah vanished as if he had never been.

The King then sent word to the nuns of Our Lady, and also their chaplain priests, to venture forth throughout the land to cleanse it of the harm Obadiah had done during his years of power. And so it was done.

 

So say the chroniclers:

…the cleansing of the land was overdue, for the false priest had installed his creatures in parishes across Graymarie. Long did the Abbess, Lady Carola, and the nuns and priests that answered to her, labor to root out the evil that the people might be fit to defend the land without fear of betrayal from within.

Meanwhile the preparations for war continued, with King and mechanician and knight alike striving with all their might to create defenses fit to withstand the coming evil…

So say the bards:

Closer and closer did Ioannes the Red come to Graymarie, leaving naught but war and despair in his wake. Danzig did fall, and Kolberg, and others also, while still more averted disaster only by giving unto Ioannes and his men great stores of gold and treasure. Antonius, resolute as ever, rode about the country rallying the people and assuring them that Graymarie would never yield to this evil man.

And yet for all his brave words, privily did the King doubt and despair. Peace had left the country ill-prepared for attack, also Obadiah's treason had caused some to doubt that Antonius was the true King, as he had been born to a ruling monarch and not chosen from among the elect as had been long the custom. "Would that we had one as wise and brave as Stephanos! Antonius is yet barely out of childhood. How can he lead us against the foe?" they did lament, and cry bitter tears as they repaired to church to pray for mercy and repent of their sins.

Not only the country folk despaired. Antonius himself read the reports from his generals and wondered in his heart whether his subjects would have the means to fight when the Red One was at the gate. For all the good harvests and gold in the treasury, the Dragon of Ten Rings had laid waste the fields and storehouses, and many veteran knights who might have advised the young King had fallen with King Huard to the Dragon. Antonius might have slain the Dragon himself and restored much of what was lost, but never had he fought in pitched battle nor directed a castle under siege, nor had most of his household.

Many was the night that the King would leave his bed and wander castle and church, working out plans and schemes for machines that might save the land. Those who saw him claimed he spoke often to himself, as if the very stones might answer, and those of his own household noted how wan and red eyed he grew as the enemy approached. Then yet more rumors spread that the King was unfit to rule, or had gone back to drink and loose company, and so the heart of the people failed even as it should have grown stouter.

Thus it was that one night the King did make his way into the crypt of Our Lady of Liberty, where he had been wont to seek refuge from his father's angry words and his mother's bitter tears. All was as it had been, or so it seemed at first: the perpetual lights, the smell of sweet incense from the censors, the side chapels and chantries and frescoes laying out the history of the land and the blessings of God thereupon.

Antonius made his way down the rows of the dead, hoping to find some guidance from prayer among the bones those who had come before him. James and Natasha lay in their common grave, the stone worn smooth by long years; the simple slab of granite with seventy-six crosses marked William, first of his name; the great mace wielded by King Geoffrey laid upon his floor grave; the effigies of Sir Gabriel and Dame Margaret, each mailed and accoutered for battle. The nuns of Our Lady of Liberty kept perpetual vigil for them all, the rulers and heroes of Graymarie, and Antonius nodded briefly as he passed one sister and another as she knelt before each tomb.

He paused the longest at the image of his parents, Huard sternly holding an alembic in one hand and a sword in the other, Maria with her cherished volume of Miriam the Egyptian’s alchemical works open upon her breast. He dropped to his knees and said a prayer for their souls, then rose and made the Sign of the Cross before one parent, then the other. The Dragon of Ten Rings had taken them before their time, and as able as he had proved, always he would wonder if he had come to the throne too young and untried.

Last of all he descended into the lowest levels of the crypt where stood a great altar of stone and a casket of imperishable crystal holding the body of the Captain of Graymarie. Long nights had he spent before this sarcophagus, contemplating the cold face and powerful form of the greatest of Graymarie’s rulers. The Shield of the Star, blessed by God and borne by St. George, lay upon his breast, while before the casket was a plaque with the words of Stephanos spoken before King Arthur himself when the great Captain had ridden off to defend Graymarie:

“I shall defend this land and people against all comers as long as there is strength in my arm and breath in my body.”

These words of Stephanos had been repeated by every ruler of Graymarie upon their coronation day, confirmed by solemn prayers and oaths before the high altar in Our Lady of Liberty. Antonius himself had spoken them scarce six years prior, and now they lay heavy in his heart as he took his place at the prie-dieu and readied himself for prayer.

“Lord, I beg thee to grant thy grace to my poor land! For though my machines are mighty, they alone cannot suffice to withstand the evil approaching swift from the East. We have but lately recovered from the deprivations of the Dragon, and my people despair that we have not the means to fight.

“I would give all that I have and all that I am to save us, but I am untested in war and also my knights. Would that the Captain might return in our hour of need! For if ever we have needed a Knight to avenge our cause, it is now. Grant me the means to combat this Ioannes, that Graymarie might not fail under my guardianship and her folk be brought to utter ruin.” So did he lament, and weep, and pray far into the night, before the resting place of the Captain of Graymarie.

 

So say the chroniclers:

…never had the prayers of a ruler of Graymarie been answered so swiftly and in such fashion, as God was pleased to work a mighty miracle to bring succor to the land. King Antonius was greatly surprised to see proof of the blessings of God made manifest in such a fashion….

And so sing the bards:

Antonius had resolved to spend the whole night in prayer, even as the did nuns in the funeral chantries above keep watch in silence over the graves of the heroes. Yet he was a mortal man, prone to the weakness of mortal flesh, and unused to long hours in silent contemplation. So it was that eventually he did fall asleep, head bowed over his hands clasped upon the rail of the prie-dieu, and there slept without dreaming through the long watches of the night.

Dawn was breaking upon the land and the good nuns had bestirred themselves to attend Prime, when Antonius was roused not by their gentle footsteps but by a great scraping sound from the altar. He came awake with a cry, right hand held out before him against whatever devilry this might, but behold! it was not devilry, but a miracle such as had not been seen in Graymarie since the healing of Lady Constance, Duchess of Ferrara, through the intervention of the Blessed Jehan.

For truly I tell you, there before the King stood the Captain himself, Stephanos, Knight of the Star, alive and well and ripe for battle against the foe!

Antonius did then stare in wonder and amazement, for Stephanos was exactly as he had been throughout the long years in the crypt, save only that his cheeks were ruddy with life, not cold and pale as one dead. His hair was gold beneath his helmet of antique design, his eyes as blue as the summer sky, and his mail gleamed as if just polished. His great shield, beset with the Star of Bethlehem and circled with blue for loyalty and red for courage, hung upon his arm, and a flaming torch shone in his right hand, deadly and keen.

He beheld Antonius in his royal robes and golden crown, and took a step down from the altar. “What place is this? Who are thou, to wear a kingly crown?” cried he in the accent of years past. “Arthur is long removed to the Isle of Apples, and foul is the man who would usurp his place!”

Antonius dropped to one knee, head bowed, one hand pressed to his heart. “Great Captain of Graymarie, hail and welcome! For thou hast come in answer to many prayers, at thy country’s hour of peril.”

Stephanos then placed his sword at Antonius’ throat, lifting his chin that he might gaze into the young King’s eyes. “What words are these? What peril? Speak thy name and explain thyself! For this is not the Isle of Conies and thou art not a man I know.”

“Sheathe thy sword, good Stephanos, and I shall tell thee all,” Antonius then said, rising as Stephanos, wondering, did as he was bade. “I am Antonius, son of Huard, and I tell thee truly that long years have passed since thy last battle, and wrought much change in Graymarie and in the world. Come with me now to the chambers of the Lady Carola de Danverius, Abbess of Our Lady of Liberty, if thou wouldst know the truth.”

Then did Stephanos, drawn by the nobility of Antonius’ countenance and his honest word, sheath his sword and set his shield upon his back. “That I will, for I have many questions for thee and thine.”

“This I can see,” said the King, and led him by secret ways to their destination.

 

So say the learned men:

…Antonius did repair with Stephanos to the cloisters of the Abbess of Our Lady, a lady of high renown and prowess hight Carola Danverius. This lady had herself been a knight before taking the veil after the loss of Queen Maria, and kindly welcome did she make to the Captain after Antonius had conveyed him hence.

Also did Antonius return in secret to the crypt with the royal banner, which he draped over the casket of Stephanos, that none might know that its occupant once more walked among mortal men. If any asked, the King replied only that the dismissal of the demon that had worn the guise of Bishop Obadiah had cracked the crystal, and he wished to conceal the damage until the battle against Ioannes Caput Rufus had been won….

And so claim the bards:

Once Antonius had brought Stephanos to the Abbess, he sent for meat and drink to be consumed privily in her cell, for the Abbess Carola deemed it wise to conceal the Captain’s return until the hour of battle. “For the Captain has been gone for many reigns of kings, and much has changed,” said the noble lady to the king. “It is best that he learns of our ways and history before he fights against so deadly a foe as this Ioannes, who will seek out any weakness and turn it against him, though he be ever so high of heart and strong of arm.”

“Truly this is wise,” said Antonius, for indeed Stephanos had been all but struck dumb by what little he had seen of the church, and the tombs of his successors. He had paused only to weep at the marker for his dear friends Gaius, and Gabriel, and Margaret the Lady Knight, and murmur a prayer when Antonius explained that they were long gone, and Graymarie ruled by many others in the years since Arminius had sought to despoil the land. Now he sat quietly at Abbess Carola’s table, eyes downcast and shoulders slumped, for his losses were great. “It would be ill indeed if our Captain succumbed to despair and let melancholia consume him before his hour is come. Tend to him until I have devised a ruse to keep him by my side and teach him of our ways as I would any man lately come to court.”

“As thou wish it, Sire,” said the lady, and bade the King repair to his own quarters for the nonce. Then she summoned her most trusted nuns, vowed to service, and had them fetch great tomes of history and natural science, also the rolls of the kings and queens, that she might instruct Stephanos in all that had passed him by as he lay beneath her abbey.

Stephanos listened to her teachings, sometimes nodding, sometimes questioning her words. At length he requested a confessor, as he had not been shriven since before the battle against Arminius, and a young novice was sent to fetch Father Edwin, the King’s own confessor, for his discretion was beyond all reproach.

In the meanwhile Antonius did write letters in his own hand summoning one “Stellarius of Hibernia” to his court to serve as esquire and champion during the preparations for war. This would be the name Stephanos bore, lest Ioannes learn of his return and come with all speed to attack before the Captain had regained his strength of mind and body. Sir James and Lady Ginevra alone did he tell of Stephanos’ return, for he trusted them in all things and could count on their silence.

As for Stephanos, until the day came when he was to come to court as Stellarius, he learned much and said little. His mood lifted, at least a little, but still he could not but ask why it was that he had been brought back from his long sleep. “For Graymarie has a king, and a noble one at that. There is no need of a mere captain, especially one who has been absent so long from the waking world. Why has it pleased God to restore my life?”

“The ways of the Almighty are not for us to question, my son. All we know is that the King prayed for one to aid him in defending the realm, and thou wert restored unto us,” said the good lady abbess. “What thy part in the coming war may be is not for me to say, but I feel in my heart that it will be a great one, and for the good of all.”

“May it be as thou hast said, my lady,” said Stephanos, and knelt for her blessing. He then tied back his hair, for it had grown long during his time in the crypt, and took up his shield. It had been covered with black cloth to conceal its shining star until the time was right, for Stellarius would be a knight without arms until it pleased the King to reveal his true identity. Sir James then conveyed him outside the capitol under cover of night, that they might enter the gates in the full light of day, for many noble warriors and men at arms were journeying to Graymarie to join the armies now that Ioannes and his men had drawn nigh.

 

So say the chroniclers:

…the blacksmiths worked day and night to fill the armories, for Ioannes was now in the Low Countries and had announced that he would take Graymarie by the fall. Antonius brought to his court a new knight, one Stellarius of Hibernia, who was said to be skilled in tactics and siegecraft, and set him to preparing castle and countryside for the coming invasion. This man was much in the King’s company, and all men remarked that they soon became as close as brothers, even as Amis and Amiloun of great repute. Even so, none were jealous of him, even the King’s dear friend Sir James, for so good of heart and open of hand was Stellarius that there was none in Graymarie who did not love him and seek his good opinion…

So say the bards:

Scarce had the disguised Stephanos arrived at court but Antonius set him to work drilling the army and setting the fortifications to right, for he swiftly learned of the new machines of siegecraft and devised ways to counter them. Rarely did the this noble knight smile as he went about his tasks, but soon the forces of Graymarie were as good as ever they had been, bold and keen and skilled in all the noble arts of war. Soon he pronounced them ready to face all comers, even after the King’s spymistress, Lily Charretiere, brought news of the foul weapons Ioannes Caput Rufus had devised to bring about Graymarie’s doom. For in addition to siege engines and great ballistas, Ioannes had drawn upon the dark arts to transform a peasant lad into a knight of tremendous strength and cruelty.

“It is said that this knight, called the Master of Men, is unstoppable,” said the lady. “Like unto one of the very devils of hell he is, tall and broad as a great oak tree, and impervious to pain. Beware, o King, for he seeks thy doom, and the doom of this land!”

“The gates of hell shall not prevail against this land. So I swore long years ago, and so I swear again,” declared Stephanos after she had departed, as he looked over the reports from abroad once more. “Abbess Carola said I was restored to life for a reason, and my heart tells me that this is the task appointed to me in ages past. Graymarie shall not fall while I have breath in my body or strength in my arm, my lord King.”

“This I believe,” responded the noble Antonius, for he had seen the prowess of Stephanos in mock combat and knew that none could prevail against such a knight. “Yet even the greatest warrior must take his rest and turn his mind to other things. Do you walk with me, my friend, and learn of the arts of peace, for war is not all we practice in this land.”

Stephanos lifted his head at that and gazed upon the King, so proud and noble even in the workman’s clothes he wore whilst studying his learned tomes. His face softened, and also his voice, so accustomed to calling out over the clash of swords and the roar of battle. “I would welcome that. Few know that in my youth, before I attained a man’s growth, I learned to draw and paint from the monks at the monastery of St. Padraig, near my home. I have not held brush nor pen in long years, but now I desire to see the arts of the land I have sworn to defend.”

“Come with me,” said King, and led him hence to the scriptorium of Our Lady to behold the pious nuns at their work. Then he took Stephanos to the great library, with books in Latin and Greek and other tongues, and afterwards to the stonecarvers and glaziers as they worked to adorn a chapel dedicated to Huard and Maria. Lastly they visited the great workshops and smithies where Antonius spent his work time, and when the bells rang for the evening meal Stephanos had seen reasons enough to cherish Graymarie in this time as well as his own.

Also had he seen how the King loved his people, and how their courage had been restored as they worked together to prepare for war. Antonius might not be Gaius nor Gabriel nor any of his former companions, but he was a worthy and goodhearted man, generous to the poor and pious of heart. It was easy to see why all loved him, and soon Stephanos counted himself among that number.

For his part, Antonius had long struggled alone to bear the burden of royal rule. Although he loved Sir James and Lady Ginevra and all those of his household well, yet none of them were of equal rank, and none knew the heavy weight of leadership. Stephanos had himself been a king in all but name, and though he now deferred to Antonius, he understood well what the young King faced. Soon Antonius found himself seeking out Stephanos merely for good company, and it was clear to all that the one known as Stellarius returned his feelings in full measure.

So they grew closer and closer, the King and the Captain, even as did King David and his sweet friend Jonathan. Like unto brothers they were, dining at the same table and riding out each day to inspect the fortifications. They went together to Mass, and if Stephanos turned in good time to a confessor other than Father Edwin, it was right and meet that each man should have his own priest to shrive him as Our Lord directed.

And thus did Antonius and the disguised Stephanos prepare to face the threat from the East, with hearts and hands and the blessings of God upon them both.

 

So say the chroniclers:

…then war did come to Graymarie, led by Ioannes Caput Rufus and his great warrior the Master of Men. Much evil did they bring to the land, and death, and the lamentation of the people was great.

Then forth did ride Antonius, in his armor of gold and his scarlet cloak, with Sir James and Lady Ginevra and others also. Chief among them was the one known as Stellarius, who soon stood revealed as Stephanos, Knight of the Star and Captain of Graymarie in former times. Even Ioannes stood amazed that this mighty warrior had returned from seeming death…

So say the bards:

It was a week after harvest time when Ioannes Schmidt, called Caput Rufus, arrived upon the borders of Graymarie. Great was his host, as mercenaries and Free Companies in search of rich booty had flocked to his standard, along with renegade Templars and Teutonic Knights and many others. His baggage train groaned with gold and the stores of a hundred lands he had earlier despoiled, and none would fault the man who saw his might and despaired.

Such could not be said of Antonius and the army of Graymarie! For though they were fewer than the Red One’s force, every one of them wore armor forged according to the King’s designs to be harder, lighter, and stronger than the finest Nuremberg plate. Mighty trebuchets laden with stone hewed from the mountains stood arrayed beside cannon of cold iron against the foe, as well as companies of mechanicians and alchemists with their devices and tinctues that would cloud the mind or pierce armor of leather or cloth.

Ioannes rode forth under the flag of truce, his heralds and the dread knight they called the Master of Men at his side, as the two sides faced each other across the fields of Kasserine. “King of Graymarie! I have come to treat with thee. Come out, or let the world know thee as a coward!”

“I am no coward, foul creature!” cried Antonius in a great voice. He sallied forth, mounted upon a roan destrier as red as the setting sun, Sir James upon his left, the one called Stellarius on his right. “We shall not yield one inch of ground, nor a single silver penny give in tribute. Graymarie is not yours to take, nor ever shall be! Now get thee gone and do not return!”

Ioannes bared his teeth at these brave words, and would have drawn his sword had not the Master of Men laid a hand on his bridle and spoken up in his stead. “Bold words are these from one so young, but words will not avail thee, young King. For know that Ioannes is descended from Arminius, the Switzer whom thy forbears slew at the Isle of Conies, and will take what ill luck and the accursed Captain of the Star denied him. The world is for the strong, and it is past time that thou learned this, even as thy Captain did in ages past.”

“I learned no such thing, Master of Lies,” said Stephanos then, and behold! he twitched aside his cloak and shook the cover from his shield, and there rode the Knight of the Star! “Arminius was a cruel and evil man who would have destroyed all that is good in this land, and it is right and meet that he met his end at the hands of those who love liberty. By Our Lady, his blood hath no place here, and I join my king in saying, get thee gone!”

The army of Graymarie let up a great shout at the sight of the man they knew only as a legend alive and well and prepared to fight once more in their defense. They shook their spears at his brave words and cried that they would follow Stephanos and Antonius, Captain and King, into the very jaws of death. Even the Master of Men quailed at this, for he and his chief had seen but little defiance on their way from Rus to Graymarie, and the words of freedom were new to his ears.

Ioannes would not be swayed, however, not by courage nor the sight of Stephanos the Captain. “Upon thy head be the destruction of all thou hold dear, foolish King,” said he, and rode back to his lines crying to his generals to give the signal to attack.

Others have written about the great battle that raged upon that doleful day, of how the sky grew dark with the showers of arrows that pierced the Red Skull’s lines and how the shield wall of Graymarie buckled and nearly failed under the charge of the Company of the Serpent and others fresh from the Italian wars. My poor words can scarce convey the dreadful slaughter nor the mighty deeds upon both sides, for as evil as Ioannes was, among his forces were men of courage and skill, and had their leader been a worthy man their prowess would be renowned, and Graymarie fallen to their swords.

Victory came to Graymarie in the end, thanks be to God! Stephanos himself vanquished the Master of Men with a single thrust from his lance, while Ginevra and her lady knights drove back the warrior women of the North. Antonius personally directed his siege engines and mechanicians against the foe, and mighty did they prove in battle. Ioannes did rage and swear at the loss of his knight and then deploy all matter of foul sorceries against Graymarie, but even his strongest efforts were as nothing against the clever work of the King of Adamant and the stout arm of the Knight of the Star.

At the end of the day Ioannes rode in a final, desperate charge against Stephanos himself. The great Captain, weary from long toil, had turned to encourage his men and did not see this attacker, and had not Antonius himself fired a dart from one of his machines to surprise the evil one, treachery might have claimed the champion God had preserved so long beneath Our Lady’s home. As it was, Stephanos saw his King’s bolt in flight and moved aside so that the wicked one’s sword but glanced off his great shield and did no harm. Then he cried out in a great voice, “Stand back, my King! This one shall not touch thee!” and struck Ioannes so great a blow as to cleave his body in twain, thus to fall into two pieces upon the battleground and lie unmourned and unshriven.

When the enemy saw their chief defeated, they faltered, then turned as one and fled for the border. The forces of Graymarie pursued, slaying many and forcing the others back to their ships, capturing much spoil of war and treasure seized from other lands. This wealth Antonius declared should go to those orphaned and widowed by the battle, that they not starve, with a portion to the Church as a thank offering. The sorcerous devices and manuscripts Ioannes had in his train he ordered destroyed, that their foulness no long pollute the land, and the enemy dead he declared should be buried in a single grave with proper rites. Only Ioannes the Red Skull was excepted from this, as Antonius had Father Edwin declare him anathema and convey his body to be burned, as he was no Christian and did not deserve better.

Then, Stephanos and Sir James and all the rest in his train, King Antonius did repair to his capitol, there to hear a great Te Deum in thanks for the victory of Graymarie against the invading foe.

 

So say the chroniclers:

…and so Antonius, having earned his kingdom with blood and battle, did reign long years in peace. At his left hand were his dear companions Sir James and Lady Ginevra, the latter of whom in due time wed Felix Pugilisticus and produced a daughter hight Penelope, who was as beautiful as the stars themselves and as strong as any man. She was the true flower of the realm, and all loved her as she grew to womanhood and won her spurs in battle when danger came again, as it ever does.

As for Stephanos, Knight of the Star, he stood always at the King’s right hand as counselor, general, and beloved sweet friend, refusing to claim the throne the people might have offered him. “I am a Captain, nothing more, and certes am content with my lot,” he said whenever asked why he did not retake what had been his in former times. “Antonius was raised to rule, and it is not my place to force him from the role God had decreed for him.”

Antonius for his part would never accept to be parted from his dear friend, for truly no men were ever closer than the Knight of the Star and his King. In good time they knelt before Bishop Edwin (for so he was in after times) and swore oaths of perpetual friendship in the Slavonic fashion, to cleave only to each other and take no wife nor other companion, and so dwelt together in great contentment until the end of their days. They were succeeded by Lady Penelope, daughter of James and Felix, who reigned wisely and well, as her godfathers had taught her, and the land was long at peace.…

And so say I:

Thus endeth the tale of mighty Stephanos, Knight of the Star, and his sweet friend Antonius, King of Graymarie and Knight of Adamant. May all who read it rejoice in the knowledge that friendship and true hearts may overcome all obstacles, and that they who serve land and people with faithful intent are blessed of God and beloved by men.

In the name of the Lord, by my hand this 31st day of May.

Ellid  
Chronicler and Scribe

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, my thanks to my collaborator, Haemodye, whose art of King Antonius bowing to the resurrected Stephanos was the inspiration for thise work. I'm going to try to embed it shortly but for now, click and see - it's absolutely GORGEOUS, just look at all the detail on that armor! And the torch! [Art link](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048138)
> 
> Second, deep and profound thanks to the mods, who let Team Magic post at the very end of May. I was in a car accident two months ago and sprained my wrist and neck pretty badly, and without the mods' kindness I probably would have been forced to pull out since typing was uncomfortable (and so was sitting in one place for more than about an hour at a time!).
> 
> Third, a few notes for those who are interested:
> 
> This fic was inspired by chivalric romances of the Middle Ages such as Amis and Amiloun, the Matter of Britain, and Aucassin and Nicolette. I majored in medieval literature and have always loved these tales, and it was such a pleasure to write one at last. Sharp-eyed readers probably have spotted most of the references, but here are a few of the more obscure ones:
> 
> \- "Graymarie" was the name of King Arthur's kingdom in T.H. White's The Once and Future King.
> 
> \- "Lucius Artorius" is the name of the Roman Emperor in several of the Arthurian romances. He is not, alas, recorded in actual history, but there seems to have been a Roman general in Britain of that name, so close enough.
> 
> \- Incorruptible Catholic saints are often kept in crystal or glass caskets before the altar in their respective churches. Some are remarkably well preserved, while others...not so much.
> 
> \- The "Slavonic rites" are a reference to an old Orthodox Church custom called "adelphopoiesis," a ceremony that would bind two members of the same sex together as lifelong brothers and companions (there are a couple of Western versions, most notably in France, where it was called "affrerement"). The late historian John Boswell believed these were sexual as well as spiritual relationships, much to the dismay of most church scholars, but his work has won some support from people who point out that at least some of the examples Boswell found did indeed seem to be the equivalent of marriage, not just deep friendship. Either way, the ceremony definitely existed, and at least in some cases it almost certainly sealed a romantic as well as religious partnership.
> 
> \- Jacobus of Kurtzberg and Joseph of Rochester are, of course, Jack Kirby and Joe Simon.
> 
> \- Feirifiz is the half-Saracen brother of Parvizal (Perceval) in Wolfram von Eschenbach's wonderful Grail romance.
> 
> \- Felix Pugilisticus = Happy Hogan
> 
> \- Arminius = Arnim Zola
> 
> \- Ioannes Caput Rufus = The Red Skull
> 
> \- "Stellarius" - of the stars
> 
> \- Ginevra il Ross di Pentora - Virginia Potts
> 
> \- Lady Penelope = Peter Parker
> 
> \- Lily Charretiere = Sharon Carter
> 
> May all who read this enjoy. Thanks so much!


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